Liam Barr

We want the next chapter explained before we leave this one.
Knowing where it leads would make the turn feel safer.

That sounds reasonable until we ask how a page becomes known.
It cannot show us what it holds while we leave it unturned.

Fear cannot read ahead for us.
It can only recognise the unfamiliar.

A new chapter can feel unknown and scary and daunting.
That does not make it the wrong page to turn.

Someone close asks what I'll do if it doesn't happen.
Each time they ask a little of their worry creeps in.

They mean it as something practical.
A sensible future to prepare for.
Repeated often enough it starts sounding like foresight.

They are imagining one future.
I still believe in another.

I can hear their worry without borrowing their conclusion.
I can love them without carrying their fear.

Their worry can unsettle me.
It cannot decide where I place my trust.

The ground can shift without asking us.
Plans disappear. Our options shrink.
We may have no say in where we land.

Circumstance can lead us away from where we intended.
It can keep us there longer than imagined.
It might even leave us scarred.
None of this requires our permission.

But there are two kinds of standing.
Where we stand.
And what we stand for.

The first can be decided for us.
The second remains ours to relinquish.